No Chump Change
by tielan
Summary: Sam finds John Sheppard sitting out on the mountainside, and seeks to draw out the poison from a new wound. [friendship, spoilers for Return I]


**NOTES**: The person who requested this wanted Carter/Sheppard. But the only reference I could manage was a historical one - they have an almost-history. Otherwise, this is about an issue I've wanted to address for a while. No-one seems to worry about this - and yet it would plague John's service history from now until nevermore. I'm pretty dman

**No Chump Change**

Sam finds him sitting up on the hill, looking out over the almost-sheer side of the mountain. He gives her a dismissive glance before turning back to the evening sky.

Far below them, the gleaming twinkle of distant car headlights marks out the route of the I25 headed up to Denver in the twilight. The cars themselves are nothing more than headlights at this hour, not even black dots in the sinking darkness, tiny little units of humanity and family, happily trundling along with no comprehension of what the universe holds.

Sam knows. And so does the man whose leaning back on his hands, staring up at the night sky with the grim expression.

She knows what's on his mind - she's been there herself. And she thinks she has a pretty good idea of where he's at, but there's no telling. The man John Sheppard is at thirty-nine is a far cry from the man he was at twenty-two, and seventeen years is nearly half their lifetime.

Still, she figures that she, out of anyone in the mountain, might be able to help here. If he even wants help.

Aware that she's stalling, Sam climbs the path to the ledge where Sheppard's sitting. "Mind if I sit down?"

He glances up. "Sure." One hand lifts, gestures, falls back down. He waits until she's seated before asking, "Got any smokes?"

"I haven't smoked in..." Sam considers. "Years. At least sixteen."

"Gave up, huh?"

"I was only ever a social smoker," she retorts. "You?"

"The wife didn't like it." He glances up at the sky. "I could do with one now, though."

Sam lets that statement sit in the silence for a while, then offers a piece of advice from her long-dead grandmother. "This, too, shall pass."

"Yeah, I kinda figured that myself after chewing Lowell out."

"She shouldn't have been gossiping."

"There shouldn't have been gossip in the first place!" And there's the anger she was expecting. John's an intense guy in his own way - one of the reasons they got along so well, and the same reason that they never did anything more than kiss.

Sam considers her next words, but it's gonna be said by someone, better her than Landry or Mitchell - or someone with even less tact than Sergeant Lowell. "You honestly didn't think about why you got the promotion?"

"I didn't think it was because the promotions board figured I was sleeping with Elizabeth!" As the night sky deepens to royal blue, his expression is lost in shades of twilight, but his anger is plain enough. As are the doubts and fears and frustrations he's now looking in the face.

She reflects that Elizabeth Weir had no idea what she was doing when she argued the SGC into promoting John to command rank. Civilians didn't always think about the military ramifications of interfering with military structure, and this was the result.

"It never crossed your mind that people might talk?"

His hesitation is enough to tell her that it crossed his mind. "I thought I earned this promotion," he says at last. "Did my time in Antarctica, ran my ass off around Pegasus. Made a couple of allies...a couple of enemies. Saved Atlantis from the Wraith with the help of my team and the others in the city..."

Sam doesn't say that he would have earned the promotion sooner or later at the rate he'd been going. He knows that - or will, once the first flush of anger's out of his system.

The bitterness and doubt will probably remain. Even she sometimes feels it - the doubt no-one casts but herself. In a way, Sam's road was easier. She _knows_ she earned her promotions. John doesn't. And probably won't ever know for sure, either.

"You know...Lowell and those people aren't the only ones talking about you," Sam tells him and watches him tense.

"Oh?"

"Mark Lorne's been defending you when the matter comes up."

In the corner of her eye, he relaxes a little.

"Caldwell seems to think pretty highly of you, too." And they both know what the high opinion of a frontline senior officer is worth. "And Jack's impressed with the reports of what you accomplished while you were in Pegasus."

It takes him a moment. "No chump change."

"No chump change."

He doesn't say as much, but she knows he's out of the funk for the moment. She doesn't say anything at all, and they sit in silence as total darkness descends on the plains below them.

It's nice to relax and be silent, companionable but not lonely. And she gets the feeling that John's been pretty lonely in the SGC since the expedition came back from Atlantis. The people he used to rely on aren't there and he still needs them. Lucky for Sam, by the time Jack took the promotion to Homeland Security, SG-1 had just about run its course.

She pities John, far from home, and struggling with his career.

At least, she pities him until he turns to her and asks, "So, did _you_ sleep with O'Neill to get the job?"

She can hear the teasing in his voice, but there's still a moment when he comes very close to being kicked off the ledge. Her sense of humour reins in the instinctive urge to lash out. In all of ten years, _no-one_ has asked the question so bluntly.

Sam decides she prefers the direct question. "No."

He eyes her with a gleam of amusement. "So, you didn't sleep with him, or you didn't sleep with him to get the job?"

For that, Sam rolls her eyes and jostles him off the bench.

- **fin** -


End file.
